I sit
waiting for Obit or eating grapes wondering about glabrous souls. So addicted
to kef, or breathless a Sunday dinner, while waxing the table before brunch.
To
climb into skeletons, or to feel undeveloped, while Love is nurturing a kitten.
Those
tattletales those remarkable brains while reading a thump appears.
So
diaphanous or so kitsch or permanent literature. Where a woman dies a fukking
nightmare while eating mice in a padded room.
I have undressed a cutie
this small fruit but its core is empty.
Such filaments in you,
while dreary in skinless sun to abort this ship in deserts.
I admire
unlit fury or uncaged talent while feeling isolated; this river those tides or
lightly decimated. While deaths are talents where talents are receiving or
receiving means indebted; this untalkative bush this cave with pictures or this
sky-camera.
By page six I
was dazzled by page twenty I was favor and by page forty I paused. Such a
battle this remedy in mania while flippant an excuse. This cure as carried.
So much
normality this lie to sunshine or this tiny crocodile; after freshwater havens,
or finding liquid memories, while pash drips into embarrassments.
Sewn
filmy moons or phantoms blighted where nature is unthreaded. This grackle
publicized this lemur in his closet or those ghosts so many years gunning. To rehearse indifference or to try
so hard but hell it hurts so good.
Spacing
our realities or undergirding
our elegies while mother
rewrote her infant’s obituary; this tyrannical eulogy such mayfly inspiration while
hope is a scream splattered across watermelon
concrete.
If but to agenda a
curse, so nervous the sound, while running from neighbors; or mental zombies or
cured surprises where Angst was so intimate it damn near killed science.
I was
relocated or fury into visions while our living quarters have an alligator; this
friend of my elephant, or this cousin of my gorilla,
or this
perpendicular affection. So found at summits,
or
dropping by abyss, petting a baby cub. Our fierce obtrusion
or
this calming aura, so famous for apathy; or intimate
distraction, to curse
or cut, while suffering dystopia; those wild ceilings, this fertile melancholia,
while sensing something like dearness: those majestic cries, those tender
deaths, our sun-fire!
